


Bat Cave Revisited

by Paper_Crane_Song



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, The Bat Cave Affair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 00:30:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10425240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paper_Crane_Song/pseuds/Paper_Crane_Song
Summary: A missing scene toThe Bat Cave Affair. Illya is a little worse for wear after those bats. The story continues on from that last scene in the castle.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is what comes from trying to write a serious fic about _The Bat Cave Affair_ after watching _The Suburbia Affair._

The tinted glasses are supposed to deter women from fawning all over him; something he doesn't actively encourage, unlike his partner. But in this case the girl – Clemency – keeps apologising so profusely he is forced to conclude that she does so out of genuine remorse and not from a desire for anything more. So he takes the glasses off, partly because he doesn't need them and partly because he is having trouble focusing as they follow Napoleon through the dimly-lit corridors.

“And then what happened after you fell down the trapdoor, Mr. Kury-aykin?” Clemency says.

“I hit my head and - ” 

“Heavens! Let me look.”

“No, really, I - ” but she insists on stopping. He sags against the wall, glad of an excuse to rest for a moment. He can't seem to catch his breath.

Her fingers are surprisingly gentle and feel nice in his hair, but then she touches a tender spot and he flinches.

“Doesn't seem too big of a lump,” she says. “And it ain't bleedin', neither.”

“Will I live?” he says, flashing her a brief smile.

“What's going on?” Napoleon says then, doubling back.

“Mr. Kury-aykin hurt his head when they took him prisoner.”

Napoleon looks him over appraisingly. “You know, I read somewhere that every time a man hits his head he loses a thousand brain cells.”

“You must have hit your head countless times then.” It's not his strongest comeback, but it's worth it for the way Clemency exclaims, “Why, that's surely no way to speak to each other!” and he and Napoleon share a grin.

“Come on, we're nearly there,” Napoleon says, taking his arm.

“Is that why you were all woozy before?” asks Clemency.

He shakes his head. “Zark also locked me in a cave full of vampire bats.”

“Had themselves a little feast, did they?” Napoleon says lightly, "I'm surprised they enjoyed drinking your low-quality Russian blood," and Clemency purses her lips in disapproval.

When they reach the main entrance, Napoleon gestures to the door. "Open it, would you Clemency?”

Whilst she struggles to undo the latch, Napoleon says to him discreetly, “How are you really doing?”

Reluctant to let Clemency overhear, he makes a “so-so” motion with his hand. In truth, the adrenaline surge that kept him going when they went after Zark has faded, and he's almost as weak as he was back in that cave. He feels Napoleon's grip tighten on his arm.

Clemency drags open the heavy door and the warm Romanian dusk greets them, a pleasant contrast to the chill of the castle.

“Say, are there really piranhas in the moat?” Clemency says, stopping to look over the side of the bridge.

He nods even though she can't see him. He's starting to feel light-headed again. Napoleon senses that he's in trouble because he eases him down onto the stone steps at the foot of the bridge and pushes his head between his knees.

“Stay with him,” he hears him say to Clemency, “I'll bring the car round.”

He raises his head and instantly Napoleon pushes it down again. “Ah ah ah,” he chastises, “Clemency, make sure he keeps his head down.”

“I surely will,” she says earnestly and he feels her shoulder brush against his as she sits next to him. He concentrates on tuning her out and taking deep breaths, hugging his arms round himself.

 Perhaps he'd fallen asleep because the next thing he knows are strong arms pulling him up.

“Where are we going?” he says, dazed.

“We're taking you to a hospital,” Napoleon says.

He blinks around him. “Did you see my motorcycle?”

“No, I didn't see your motorcycle.”

“Those thieving cossacks must have stolen it.”

“Language, my dear.”

 

* * *

 

The car is a convertible, naturally. He lies with his head in Clemency's lap. There are so many stars. For a brief moment he thinks he is back home as the tones of his childhood waft over him, and he struggles into a sitting position to see his partner trying his best to ask for directions from some Romani folk.

“They are saying the hospital is that way,” he says, sinking back down.

 

* * *

 

The emergency room is too bright. His cuts are stinging from the iodine, sugary drinks have been forced upon him and his head aches abominably.

The nurse leaves the room to fetch the needles and he looks over at Napoleon who is leaning back on a chair skimming a newspaper. 

“I've already had the, the ” - irritatingly he can't remember the English for _rabies_ or _vaccination_ , so he has to mime an injection.

“I know, it's just a precaution. A booster. You'll get the rest in New York.”

“Where's Clemency?”

“Out in the hall. She's booking a hotel.”

He frowns. “I don't want to stay here tonight.”

“That's why I told her to make the reservation for three," and Napoleon holds up three fingers helpfully.

“Oh,” he replies, his bad mood somewhat mollified. Then he realises his partner is humouring him and that makes him angry all over again.

“This is your fault. You sent me on a wild goose chase and nearly got me killed. For all you know I may have -” _chyort_ , what is that word? “mad bat disease,” he finishes lamely.

“Mad bat disease,” Napoleon repeats slowly. “You know in America we call it 'rabies'.”

Before he can find something to throw, the nurse comes back and he has to submit to having the injections (in his arm, thankfully) and then dutifully listens to her instructions on caring for the bites and possible infections and to be sure to drink plenty of fluids and to take plenty of rest and all the while Napoleon is sitting there pretending to read his newspaper and it's not as if Napoleon can even read Romanian anyway.

“Thank you,” he tells her, stepping down into his shoes. Napoleon bends to help him with the laces but he swats him away. Then he is kept waiting whilst Napoleon flirts with the nurse in broken Romanian. 

“Oh Mr. Kury-aykin,” Clemency shouts from across the hallway and that is the last straw. He ignores her and stalks off towards the exit.

 

* * *

 

He waits for them in the car, sitting up front and maintaining a stony façade which falters slightly when Napoleon produces a bag of _mititei_. “Nurses' station,” he says by way of explanation. He shakes the bag in front of Illya's face until he takes one.

After a few minutes he is starting to feel more human again, and as he helps himself to another sausage he reflects on how very much like a puppy his partner is, a great oversized puppy who wants above all to be liked and so tries to endear himself to him (and only him, it seems) in the most undignified ways possible. Often in briefings for example, Napoleon will waggle his eyebrows at him and do silly things with his hands when he thinks Waverly isn't looking, doing everything he can to attract his attention. It is behaviour that is most unbecoming of a spy, let alone a grown man, and yet -

And yet Illya loves it. What's worse is that somehow Napoleon knows that he loves it and so he persists in his infantile behaviour, in this case nudging him until Illya turns to him with a sigh.

“What?”

“Feeling better, my little vampire?” 

“You do know that vampires aren't real.”

“Well Count Zark sure looked pretty convincing.” Napoleon draws his upper lip back and leans over. “I vant to suck your blood." Illya pushes him away and Clemency pipes up from the back,

“I just don't know how you two can joke about this. Mr. Kury-aykin nearly died!”

“You're right, Clemency,” Napoleon says solemnly, “Mr. Kury-aykin did nearly die. It was thanks to you that we got there in time.”

He takes his cue from Napoleon and turns round in his seat to look at her. “Yes, thank you Clemency. If you hadn't found me then I'd be dead and Operation Nightflight would be wreaking havoc on the world's transport systems as we speak.”

“Well,” she says, not quite placated, “I don't know about that...” 

He turns back and settles himself against the car door. The last thing he sees is Napoleon making vampire faces and he smiles indulgently as he closes his eyes and prepares to take a well-earned nap.

 

_Finis_

 


End file.
